A Story of Fire
by Flannelwearingviking
Summary: Hugo is living a quiet life in his town, safely protected from the Pokémon until one day the defenses get torn down and Hugo is forced to look at Pokémon in a different way, moving against the hostile opinions of most other people he decides to become a trainer himself. This forces him to leave what is left of his hometown and venture into the unknown. (Post-Apocalyptic setting)


A Story of Fire

 _It's our fault. It's all our own fault. We set this upon ourselves. We were arrogant. We thought our perfect little world was gonna last forever. Of course it didn't… We tried to control things that were beyond our control. We tried to control the Gods like they were kids toys, used for our amusement and easily discarded. But still, we might have gotten away with that without the Pokémon marking us as ´the enemy´ if it wouldn't have been for the war.  
The War.  
That Wretched War.  
Stealing the lives of good men, women, and pokémon. One after another they fell. Friends, family, mothers, fathers, siblings… All taken. All gone.  
I guess we should have seen the War coming at least. The hostility between the different Regions had been growing for a long time, the tension rising and rising.  
Then it finally snapped, the result a menacing destruction like the world has never seen before. At first it was only the pokémon fighting, but the numbers of the trained pokémon dwindled quickly as one after the other fell. The result was that trainer captured everything they could, rattata, pidgey, and sending them straight to the front lines. Too weak to make a difference but with enough to cause great damage. Butterfree spraying poison gas at the enemy while Beedrill picked of everyone who tried to escape.  
I myself fought in the War. But i was different. Most of my team were still alive back then. It made me strong. It made me an officer. Then they gave us guns, and things only got worse. Blood rained from the sky…  
At one point, we killed and caught too many… The populations dwindled and fewer and fewer pokémon where to be found.  
I don´t know whose genius idea it was to use nukes, but the Regions all used them at once. I guess they succeeded to some extent because the War was over. But the pokémon couldn't forgive us… How could they? I know you think pokémon are monsters, trying to finish off what is left of humanity, but don't forget, we did this to them!_

I stared at the bearded man with what must have been an utterly stupid confused expression on my face. However i was amazed by his story i was also angry at him. How could he defend those monsters like that?! They were evil, menacing creatures who preyed upon helpless people who just tried to stay alive. How could it be that at one point pokémon and people had ever been friends? They were supposed to be each other's mortal enemies. And then this… This old 'trainer' (i spat the word out in my mind) comes along and tells us we are to blame? I couldnt believe the nerve of this guy.  
There he stood, covered in the blood of his pokémon and a wound in his leg, clutching on to his last Pokéball for dear life. Giving a speech like this, while he was about to die… I couldn't help but admire the man. The Peacekeepers of the town closed in on him with their guns at the ready as he lifted his arm and threw the pokéball far away, over the wall of the town protecting us from the pokémon.  
Then one of the peacekeepers took the shot. The bearded guys brain now colouring the wall behind him, he fell down like a puppet, all of the strength suddenly gone. Now nothing more than a dead old man.  
The crowd i stood in started to cheer. People had gathered to see how this trainer was going to be knocked down a peg and I guess they just wanted to see the blood of one of the 'enemies'. But right then it just sickened me. Had they really not seen the bravery this man had shown in his final moments? I turned away from the sight and walked away, wanting nothing more to do with all this.

I didn't get my wish.  
I'm still not completely sure but I think it was that last pokéball the man had thrown over the wall.  
I think that is where the Charizard came from.  
He came that night. Probably seeking vengeance for his comrades and fallen trainer. I woke up that night feeling completely disoriented. Out of the window of my room I could see the western part of the town already burn, and a dark shadow flying through the smoke.  
As a kid who grew up in a town with houses built mostly out of wood, I had learned at a young age to fear a fire. That is why my initial reaction was to run downstairs to grab a bucket and go help to put out the fire. And so I did.  
Whilst I was searching for a bucket in the house I heard my Mother and Father run out of their room too. Only they weren't carrying buckets. They were carrying rifles. Although I found the sight of that a bit unnerving I tried to ignore it as I sped myself to the well to fill the bucket and help put out the ever so dangerous flames.  
Although the fire was still on the other side of the town the strong scent of the smoke started to fill my nose and made my eyes tear. The heat of the flames could be felt even from here. At that point the fear, who was until this point still suppressed by the adrenaline and the just waking up, hit me like a brick wall.  
Not only did I fear for the flames, and for the lives of my friends and family. But I was afraid of what would happen next. Whatever caused this or, I thought to myself, what pokémon caused this must have been extremely powerful to have caused so much damage. That was of course, if it was alone. At that thought a cold shiver ran down my spine.  
As I filled the bucket with water from the well, I could now hear gunshots. Good! They must be fighting that pokémon and driving it away! I thought at first. But then I heard it roar. Had I thought the gunshots to be loud, than this roar was ear shattering. It was filled with so much anger, loss and sadness that my eyes filled with tears. I was so overwhelmed by the sudden feeling of sadness that I froze in place, bucket in hand.  
It was only a moment. But in that moment I had somehow felt compassion for the beast laying waste to our town. I was angry at myself and confused. I tried to shake it off as I resumed my running towards the flames. Determined to stop the fire.  
At some point I just lost track of time. My entire world became nothing more than the bucket in my hand, and the flames I had to put out. There had never been anything else than the fire, the smoke, and the screams of the ones burning. There had always been a huge fire breathing monster flying through the columns of smoke that rose over our town while it was angered by the gunshots fired by the townspeople. I got numb and just kept going, no matter how much I wanted to just lie down and sleep. I had to keep carrying that damn bucket.  
I awoke from my numbness when I heard the beast roar again. I looked up from the burning cottage I was trying to save just in time to see it fly overhead.  
I have never seen anything like it and I hope I won't ever do so again.  
It was both a beautiful and terrible sight. The Charizard could be described as nothing else but majestic. Elegant despite all the raw power that it was unleashing. I looked in awe as I saw it use its Flamethrower, setting ablaze yet another set of buildings.  
Then I caught a look of its eyes as it made another sweep over the houses. Those eyes… I will never forget them. There was fury, there was so much anger in those eyes. A burning madness over what it had lost, tempered by something else… I gasped in awe as I saw it flying towards me. It had spotted me too and was now coming in for the kill. It didn't use his Flamethrower. I still thank Arceus for that. It tried to finish me off with his claws but I managed to duck just in time.  
I didn't manage to avoid his tail.  
It hit me right on the back and sent me flying a couple of meters. The last thing I remember before I blacked out was another gunshot, and a roar of pain from the Charizard.


End file.
